“Good idea,” approved Merry. “Tie the pig and boost it up here.”
“Velly fine!” cried the Chinaman, his slant eyes sparkling.
Blunt, Ballard, and Woo Sing fell upon the small porker, and, while the air was torn with squeals, they bound his feet together and then hoisted him to Uncle Sam’s back. There was a good deal of wriggling and squirming on the pig’s part, but Uncle Sam took it good-naturedly, and ambled off.
Clancy, Ballard, Blunt, and Woo Sing kept pace with the mule, and they all arrived in town together. The pig was unloaded in the waiting pen, out back of the hotel, and Uncle Sam was turned into the small corral where he passed most of his time. The Chinaman was so happy over the safe ending of his work with the pig that he almost shed tears.
“Melliwell,” he snuffled, “you do a heap plenty fo’ Woo Sing. China boy nev’ fo’gettee.”
“Not a word for us,” said Ballard disgustedly, as he walked away with Frank and the rest, “and Blunt and I helped capture the porker in the cañon. I always said that chink had a wooden head. Next time he goes pig catching, by George! he can take Clancy and Chip.”
There was a buzz of excitement in Ophir’s main street. Everywhere the stage robbery was being discussed. Riders were leaving town by twos and threes, all heading for the cañon, and fired with a desire to do something to help run the robbers to earth.
The boys saw Burke just as they turned to mount the steps leading to the hotel veranda. Burke was sitting on his horse by the hitching pole in front. He had just mounted, it appeared, preparatory to returning to the mine.
“Hawkins was gone long before I got here,” said he, “but I sent word to him by two or three of those who just pulled out for the cañon. Maybe they’ll see the deputy sheriff, and maybe they won’t. I’ve done the best I could, though.”
“Telephone in, will you, Burke,” requested Merry, “in case Lenning is at the mine when you get there?”